


Moon vs. The Woods

by yincredible



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Gen, Howard makes enemies fast, I don't know when this is set
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 09:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11757246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yincredible/pseuds/yincredible
Summary: Howard is lost in the woods and things are not going well for him.





	Moon vs. The Woods

If there was one thing he had learned today, it was that he hated the woods. All the woods had to offer was trees and evil. Clutching his trumpet close to him as he walked, he mentally cursed at himself for coming out here to practise. He'd thought that it would be good to practise where nobody could hear, as well as being bloody poetic. It turned out that the woods were a horrible place to practise because, despite being sure he'd only gone a few yards in, he was now totally lost.

Sometimes it really did seem like his life was just a big practical joke. Wandering aimlessly had seemed like a good idea at first (although now he wasn't quite sure why), but now he realised that it had only led to him becoming more and more lost. Stopping to rest under a tree, he let out a sigh as he leaned back against the trunk. Maybe if he just stayed here forever then everything would be okay. Yeah, that sounded like a pretty good idea.

Bonk.

Despite the oddly comical sound it made, something landing on his head was no pleasant experience. Jumping away from the tree in surprise, he gazed at his feet to see that it was an acorn that had bounced off his head. Perhaps it had simply fallen off the tree. Was that how it worked? Probably. Content with this, he was about to lean back against the tree when that same mockingly hilarious noise sounded again.

Bonk.

Dragging his gaze up to the branches of the tree with a scowl, he was about to yell at the tree itself when he saw a squirrel staring back at him. Blinking in surprise, he noticed that its tiny body seemed to be shaking slightly. Was it cold? No, no, it seemed to be... laughing? Oh, fuck that. This little squirrel prick thought it could laugh at Howard Moon, did it? Well, it wouldn't be laughing soon, no sir.

Grabbing one of the acorns from the ground to throw back, he was taken by surprise yet again. As he bent over to pick it up, he felt something larger than an acorn hit his back, causing him to fall forwards. Now laying flat in the mud, he raised his eyes back up and wondered how the bloody hell a squirrel had managed to throw a stick at him. All he really knew was that this meant war.

Scrambling to his feet, he kept his eyes on the squirrel this time. It seemed that any time he looked away, the little bastard felt the need to throw something at him. Bending his knees until he was squatting by an acorn, he pointedly watched the squirrel as he slowly picked it up. Where was it even getting acorns from, anyway? He couldn't see any up there, or any loose sticks for that matter. Unless it had broken off a bit of the branch, he couldn't see where that had come from either.

Not that it mattered now that he had an acorn. Glaring at the tiny twat, he drew his arm back and prepared to throw his projectile in retaliation. All he had to do was aim perfectly. Ah yes, that would be easy for him. It wasn't like he was poor at every sport and had never successfully aimed anything in his life. This wasn't his lifestyle. He was meant for listening to jazz and categorising shades of brown into how aggressive they seemed. Waging war against squirrels wasn't in his blood.

And yet here he was.

Taking a deep breath, he threw the acorn as hard as he could. His aim actually wasn't that bad, but being 'not that bad' unfortunately didn't mean hitting his target. To make it worse, the squirrel appeared to be laughing again. Crap. This was just getting worse and worse. He wanted to go home.

Becoming agitated, he cried out, "What do you want, you squirrel asshole? Huh? I'm Howard Moon! You can't mess with me. It will only end in disaster for you." He generally liked to think of himself as a sensible person. Being here, lost in the woods and yelling at a squirrel, didn't seem very sensible. It didn't help that he was covered in mud and had almost dropped his trumpet in all the confusion. Now clutching it tight to his chest, he realised with a start that the squirrel was gone.

How? Had he become so distracted by his own yelling that he hadn't noticed it run off? Well, as long as it was gone, he supposed everything was alright. Sighing with relief, he started walking again. It wasn't dark yet, so hopefully he could make it home in time for dinner. Yeah, that'd be good. What he really needed right now was a good meal.

After a further twenty minutes or so of walking, he finally found the part of the woods which he had initially entered. He was almost home. Smiling triumphantly, he was about to stride onward when he heard something behind him. It was a small sound, like that of something small running towards him. Of course, he was in the woods and surrounded by woodland creatures, so he quickly dismissed it. A foolish choice.

There was a wet slapping sound directly behind him. So close behind him, in fact, that it came from his own back. Shocked, he spun around and saw Squirrel Dick himself staring right at him, his small body shaking with laughter. What had he done this time? Reaching behind him, he couldn't quite reach whatever it was, but he could feel moisture beginning to seep through his thin shirt to create an uncomfortable feeling of dampness.

After throwing a few stones in the squirrel's general direction, he departed quickly from the woods. It was when he got home that he discovered that a wet leaf had been stuck to his back, managing to cling onto him due to the moisture. Unable to reach it and too embarrassed to ask anyone for help, he struggled for around an hour before finally managing to get it off.

The life of Howard T.J. Moon was a difficult one, but at least he got through it with dignity where others may have lost all sense of pride. That was bollocks, of course. His way of dealing with life was shit, and it was only typical that this would happen to him. There was nobody to blame but himself. Himself, and that bastard of a squirrel.


End file.
